No Regrets
by JLo10131121
Summary: For twelve years Adam has been blissfully clueless as to his father’s past. When he finds out, what will he decide? Post Series Finale. Story one of three - 2 - Bittersweet Symphony; 3 - Sacrifice and Solace


Title: No Regrets

Author: Jen

Email: 

Category: M&N, post-ep, Vignette, Adam's POV.

Rating: G

Summary: For twelve years Adam has been blissfully clueless as to his father's past. When he

finds out, what will he decide?

Spoilers: the series finale which I think SUCKED

Distribution: Anywhere as long as I know the url.

Disclaimers: La Femme Nikita, the show and characters do not belong to me. They belong to

USA, WB, and everyone else who abuses them.

Feedback: is food for the hungry soul as well as fodder for my ego. BEG

Author's Note: At the end of the series finale, I was deeply angered and enormously unsatisfied with the so-called ending. As a result of late night musings, my mind produced this work. I was never happy with the way they left things, with Michael leaving Nikita and her being alone, by herself for the rest of her life. She gave up her freedom and her chance at happiness to save Michael's son, and she gets nothing in return. This fic is my attempt to right the wrong the writers did when they made the finale. Although the fic is short in length, I hope you all enjoy it. The point of view is not from Michael, nor Nikita or any of the other key characters, but is in the first person as told by Adam, twelve years down the road. I had wondered what the boy would have thought and done if he ever found out the truth behind his life and the sacrifices made to give him a home. This fiction is the answer to that question. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

No Regrets

For as long as I could remember, it has always been just been my father and I. Never has there ever been a woman in my father's life. And not for the lack of trying. Women seem to gravitate toward him like men do to a leader, but always he has refused their advances.

When I was a child, I remember my father looking out the window of our home, just staring blindly, seeing something I could only imagine. He has always searched for something, that much I have sensed, since the time I was five. And until recently, I never knew what. I used to listen to him cry silently in his bedroom after he thought I was long asleep. For as long as I can remember, his anguish has always been a part of our lives. Every night for twelve years, grieving in silence. For what I knew not.

After my mother died when I was five, there was a moment in time which I remember vividly. I couldn't have understood the magnitude of the moment at that time, but now, after my father has revealed all of his secrets, I now understand the enormity of what he sacrificed to raise me.

On that afternoon so long ago, my father said goodbye for the final time to the one woman whom he had ever loved. She had touched something in him which no one has ever been able to reach since. I have always sensed he keeps a part of himself apart from me, albeit it is quite unconsciously. The part of him which he keeps apart, he has kept for her. Only her. Always waiting, always wanting, needing.

I vaguely remember what my own mother looked like, but she, she I will never forget. I remember thinking in the train station that she was an angel, sent to save me. From what, I had forgotten until my father told me his truth. Her name was Nikita and she had golden hair, clipped short, beautiful blue eyes, and a sweet mouth that smiled too seldom. I remember my father's eyes when he said goodbye to her. They were filled with a sadness I could not comprehend then, but do now.

Just over an hour ago, he concluded his convoluted and tragic tale, a story so fantastic I could scarce believe it, if not for the genuine pain I saw in his eyes as he related the story of himself and Nikita. Twelve years ago today, Michael Samuelle, Level 7 Section One Operative, gave up the only woman he had ever loved for me. To give me a life, one untainted by Section intrigue and danger, and in doing so, gave up his freedom. In saving my life, she sacrificed her father and her own freedom. Father told me everything, from the day of her recruitment to the moment of our escape. The two things she had ever dreamed of while in Section, her freedom and a life with my father, were taken from her in the moment she decided to take the reins of heading Section One. She gave up her dreams for me.

Twelve years of loneliness has taken its toll on my father. Although only in his late forties, Michael has aged a century without her. I am eighteen this December, and will be on my own. It is time for my father to have the happiness he deserves after years of sacrifice. I walk into the living room where he sits at the window seat as always and stares out at the world, searching for her.

"Dad," I say rustily, clearing my throat before I begin anew, gaining his attention.

"What is it, Adam?" His soft voice has always soothed me in my time of need, but now hearing his voice only makes the hole in my heart grow bigger, knowing what I must say. For when he returns to her, he will never come back.

"I have decided. I am turning eighteen this winter and will be attending Oxford in the fall. For the past twelve years, I have watched you search for something I could not understand until an hour ago." I pause in my speech, emotion clogging my throat and tears stinging my eyes. "You gave up your freedom for me, Dad. Nikita sacrificed her happiness, you, for me. So I could have a better life. Enough is enough. For twelve years you have suffered without her, and it ends today. I want you to go to her. Stay with her. Be with her the rest of your life." At this point, I am trying to hold the tears in, with miraculous success, but he sees past it.

"If I go, I won't be able to see you again," he said hoarsely, hope and despair warring in his heart.

"If you don't, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. I don't need you anymore, not like I did twelve years ago. You deserve happiness, Dad. She is what makes you happy. In my entire life, I have never seen you more alive than at this moment, with the prospect of being with her so close, so within your grasp."

His face twisted, half in pain, half in elation. "I loved her then. I love her now," he whispered.

"Then let me take you to her." For a long moment, he did not answer; I believed he would stay with me and deny himself again.

"Yes," he whispered, nearly inaudible.

Silently, I packed father's belongings as he made the call to Nikita using the special comm unit she had given him twelve years ago. "I'm coming home," Michael whispered when she answered. For a long moment she was silent, but then a soft sob broke through the unit. Something in my heart broke at that small sound, a small admission of her pain, suffering, and heartache she had gone through the past twelve years. We packed quickly and I drove us to the predetermined destination, the Gardens of Kew in Montreal. Father was anxious, eagerly awaiting her arrival and at once dreading leaving me behind. Finally we arrived and unloaded his suitcases.

We walked to an iron bench and I sat down, but father was too jittery to sit still. He kept pacing back and forth, scanning the crowd for his love's tall form and honey blond hair. After twenty minutes had passed I was beginning to think she had set him up when suddenly he stopped, in mid-stride, and slowly turned around. I scanned the crowd for what had caught his attention, but saw nothing, until a woman clad in black began to walk through the crowded interior. At first she walked slowly, but once she caught sight of Father, she began to walk briskly and then broke out into a jog. Her hair had grown long again, and black shades covered her eyes but for a moment before she ripped them off. Her eyes...they were the most expressive eyes I have ever seen. Every emotion was written across the blue canvas: elation, pain, love, loneliness.

Finally they stood inches apart, neither making the first move, as if afraid to discover this had all been part of some wretched, cruel trick. "Michael..." she whispered brokenly, the tears held at bay in her eyes finally released from their prison. "Michael..." she whispered again, raising a shaky hand to caress his face. Upon that touch her eyes slipped shut and I watched as my father leaned into her caress.

"Nikita..." he returned softly, before cupping her face in his hands and bringing her mouth up to his. For long minutes the two lovers kissed, clinging to each other like lifelines. After breaking off the kiss he continued to nuzzle her face and whispered French endearments in her ear. The sight of the reunion brought tears to my eyes. "For so long, I have dreamed of this moment, seeing you again, touching you. Torturing myself with thoughts which would never become a reality," he said softly before kissing her once more.

A moment later, he turned his head to look at me, and in an instant, his face went from happiness to despair. "Adam, this is Nikita," he introduced. My gaze turned to the blond woman who smiled slightly.

"You've grown up beautifully, Adam," Nikita said.

"Father has told me much about you. I am deeply sorry for the anguish the two of you have gone through over the years because of me. Dad has never been the same since the train station, and today, I understand why. He deserves happiness. I'm just sorry it has taken this long for you to be together," I replied quietly.

"Adam," Father says in that soft voice of his, and I know that it is time. All of a sudden, a flood of tears blur my vision. He breaks from her embrace for a moment and turns to me. "I love you, Adam. I have loved you since the day you were born and Elaina placed you in my arms. I have taken care of you the eighteen years of your life."

"And now it is your turn for happiness," I finish for him. "Be with the woman you love, Papa."

My father's face, his resolve falters for a moment and I know that in that split second he will decide to stay with me. I can't let that happen. "Adam..."

"No regrets, Papa. No regrets," I remind him strongly. He has another life to live now. He can't look back.

"Goodbye, son," he whispers as he hugs me. I breathe deeply of his unique scent, memorizing his smell and feel, knowing that I will never see him again.

I cannot talk. Indeed, I cannot breathe as I watch my father walk out of my life and into the arms of his lover. I watch as they walk, hand in hand, and for the very first time for as long as I could remember, he smiles, a full blown, happy smile. The shadows that had always lurked in his eyes disappear and in that moment I know that I made the right decision.

No regrets.

The End


End file.
